


Much Ado About Nothing

by SoYoureClairevoyant



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Communication, Domestic, Eventual Happy Ending, Fluff and Smut, Lack of Communication, M/M, Maried Victuuri, not sorry, problems in the bedroom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:41:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27926914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoYoureClairevoyant/pseuds/SoYoureClairevoyant
Summary: Victor and Yuuri fall asleep during sex and chaos ensues. Inspired by one of the most ridiculous episodes of Dharma and Greg!
Relationships: Christophe Giacometti & Victor Nikiforov, Katsuki Yuuri & Victor Nikiforov, Katsuki Yuuri & Victor Nikiforov & Yuri Plisetsky, Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Yakov Feltsman & Victor Nikiforov
Comments: 2
Kudos: 108





	Much Ado About Nothing

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks as always to my beta napsushi. I could not have found to courage to write this without your input. Shout out to shamelessllamapeanutthing for giving me the idea to finally write these two doing the do.

Yuuri woke to the chill of the air in the apartment raising goosebumps on his bare chest. On top of him, Victor breathed deeply, sound asleep in the early hours of the morning. Yuuri reached over to the nightstand for his phone to check the time, and as he shifted, he felt the soft material of his sweats against his calves. Lifting the covers to confirm, he saw that he was still dressed from the waist down, as was Victor, and the sheets were in pristine condition. On the nightstand, the small bottle of lube and a silk scarf lay innocently unused. Weird, considering that last thing Yuuri remembered was smiling as Victor settled between his legs and kissed down his neck, all but purring his name as Yuuri moaned in response. They’d been totally swept up in the moment, so if they were still dressed, it could only mean they most definitely did not have sex.

Yuuri squirmed under his husband, patting his shoulder to rouse him. “Vitya?”

“Mmm...” Victor shifted from on top of Yuuri to his side to hold him around the middle and put a soft kiss to his collarbone, still mostly asleep.   
  


“Victor, wake up!” The panic in Yuuri’s voice woke the Russian and his eyes snapped open, bright blue shining even in the soft light of the room.

“Hmm? What’s the matter? Are you okay?”

“We fell asleep.”

Victor shook his head and relaxed back onto Yuuri’s chest, relieved that his husband wasn’t in danger. Sleepily, he replied, “Mmhmm. You were wonderful.”

Yuuri pushed him off and sat up to rub his hands over his face. “No, I wasn’t, and neither were you. We fell asleep in the middle.”

“In the middle?” He lifted the sheets as Yuuri had done, confused by the pants and appreciative of his husband’s entire lower half even in the early morning hours.

Yuuri clarified, his voice muffled from behind his palms. “Well not the middle-middle. The beginning-middle. Either way, it was way ahead of schedule!”

“So I dreamed all that other stuff? Wow.” Victor gazed at his husband, remembering the things they had done in his dream. It would have been funny had Yuuri not started breathing slightly erratically and tearing up. 

“I think I’m having a panic attack.”

“Yuuri, darling, breathe. It’s okay. We both pulled a 12-hour day yesterday. We were exhausted. I’m amazed we even made it as far as we did.”

“Oh, Vitya,” Yuuri whimpered, “we’re so married.”

Was the honeymoon phase waning that quickly? The newlyweds both felt shame welling in their chests at the thought, Yuuri’s manifesting in an aggressive blush and shaking voice, Victor’s showing in his furrowed brow and fidgeting hands. They’d only been together a little over two years and married for a few months. As comfortable as they were in every relationship they had with each other, Yuuri and Victor had settled quickly and naturally into domesticity. Lust didn’t so must hit them like a wall they way it did in the beginning.

Wedding band glinting in the soft light, Victor brushed Yuuri’s unruly black hair out of his panicked face. “Darling, would it make you feel better for us to try again?” he asked, concerned. 

“ _ Yes! _ ” Yuuri yelled, frustrated and hysterical. “We have to finish! Chop chop, let’s go!”

“Well, we can’t just pick up where we left off. Wait one moment.” Victor threw off the covers and scrambled to the edge of the bed. Yuuri caught his hand before he could get up and pulled the Russian back towards him.

“Where are you going?”

“To brush my teeth.”

Yuuri groaned in disappointment. “Ohhhh, remember when we first got together, and it didn’t matter? We didn’t care.” He smiled and pulled Victor into a kiss, licked into his mouth in a desperate attempt to kindle the embers of desire that typically hovered just a few touches away. When they separated, the younger skater made a small face of disgust and pushed his husband away gently. “Well, if you’re already on your way…”

Tossing an exasperated glance over his shoulder, Victor stumbled his way into their bathroom. He used the coldest water and the spiciest cinnamon toothpaste he could find to wake himself up, but it was all for naught. In the maybe ninety seconds it took him to scrub the taste of sleep off of his teeth and tongue, Yuuri had fallen back asleep. It looked like he had tried to pose seductively, one arm thrown over his head on the pillow, but with the small click of the bathroom light, he curled on his side and cuddled Victor’s pillow to his stomach, dead to the world. Victor shook his head - part disappointed that he wouldn’t be getting laid anytime soon and part grateful that he could simply climb into bed behind his husband and wrap his arms around him, entering the land of dreams once more.

***

“It’s fine.”

Yuuri started the toaster and held his mug out for Victor to fill it with coffee. Complying with a demure kiss on the cheek, the Russian walked around him and pulled avocados from the fridge. His voice traveled from behind the door, still heavily accented as he adjusted to being awake.

“It  _ is _ fine.”

“Totally normal thing occurred last night.”

Victor put together their breakfasts and sipped his coffee at the counter. Yuuri’s dark eyes peeked over his own mug, watching his husband from his bar stool for obvious signs of rejection or doubt or even irritation. Finding none, he took a small bite of the toast handed to him and tried to justify what didn’t happen the night before.

“Lilia had me doing flexibility training and choreography all morning yesterday and I know you had conditioning with Mila and Yura before you had to coach me.”

Victor nodded, eyes down on his breakfast and his phone. Anywhere but Yuuri. “We were both doing drills and jumps all afternoon. Qualifying competitions start next week. So we were tired and stressed, and we fell asleep.”

“During sex,” Yuuri pointed out nervously.

“During sex,” Victor confirmed.

For a moment neither of them spoke. The only sounds in the kitchen were those of munching mouths and clinking dishes. Yuuri pushed the last bites of toast away and sat back.

“Victor, I feel horrible. I cannot believe I fell asleep like that, in the first place and after waking you up.’’

Relieved ice-blues eyes met sheepish chocolate-brown ones. With a shy smile, Victor agreed, “I don’t blame you, I was apparently just as exhausted. That whole situation was one of the most embarrassing things I think has ever happened to us in the bedroom.”

“Besides the time we tried that one roleplay?”

“Which we decided not to ever talk about ever again. Yes, I think this might be worse.”

The dark-haired skater’s gaze landed on a distant point, hands worrying over a napkin in his lap and biting his lip. “What do we do? It’s not like we have a problem starting things. If anything, we may have a problem stalling them. I still want you, all the time. Like an inconveniently distracting amount of time.”

Victor smirked and cocked an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Stop making eyes at me, we have to leave in like twenty minutes, and my ego still hasn’t healed!”

Victor laughed at himself, delighted at his husband’s reaction. “Well, it’s not like we’re wanting for options. We just do what we always do, rest and recuperate and keep talking about it and trying. If it happens, it happens. If we’re really concerned, we can always ask for help learning to balance things.”

“Four months into marriage, and we’re talking about bringing another person into our bed,” Yuuri said drily. “I don’t know whether to be scandalized at us or full of pride.”

“Chris says--”

“Think about what you are about to say. You are going to share bedroom advice from Christophe Giacometti. Tread carefully”

“ _ Chris says _ that people who are secure in the fact that it will pass have nothing to fear from a little dry spell.”

“What a wise man. Tell me, Mr. Katuski-Nikiforov, are we secure?”

Victor came around the counter, arms open for a hug which Yuuri accepted gratefully. The familiar sound of his husband’s heartbeat and the smell of his cologne had an almost immediately calming effect. Resting his cheek on dark hair, Victor’s spoke confidently. 

“Let me put it this way: if it were socially, financially and biologically possible, I would never want us to leave the bedroom. I would have us naked and doing desperate, depraved things to each other until we were hollow husks of men basking in the afterglow of ecstasy 24 hours a day. I could spend a fortune on books and games and toys to try and still never get bored with just being close to you. We would live only on crude protein and electrolytes. We’d eventually need a new reinforced bed because we’d break the one we have now. That reinforced bed would need several sets of sheets that we’d never use because we were too busy recovering from each other to change them. Meanwhile, this apartment would dissolve into chaos. We would have to rehome Makkachin to spare him from emotional scarring, cut off all contact with the outside world except those who bring us sustenance. The sounds we made together would serve as a warning to others about the mating habits of competitive figure skaters.” 

The two of them laughed. “Darling, the way you move does things to me that I haven’t felt since I first saw Stephane Lambiel skate live for the first time. Between your very talented hands, your graceful hips and waist and the way you use your beautiful mouth - I could unravel at any moment, at any time and be overjoyed with the way it happened. You” - he stopped to press a loud kiss to dark hair - “are the most tantalizing thing on two legs, with thighs that I would be grateful to say killed me, a properly divine ass and a cock that is so perfect I could build a shrine to it and weep as I placed offerings before it. The shrine would receive so many visitors and offerings from so many skaters in every division that your cock would eventually start a new religion. I could spend days worshipping every inch of you, documenting every freckle and scar to publish as a renowned scientific paper, and still find something new and interesting on your body every time I had the pleasure of undressing you. If someone produced an album of every sound you make in the throes of pleasure, it would top the international charts. I would play it on repeat in between rounds of making you do them for me in person. 

“I love you more than life itself, my Yuuri, and I want you to feel how much I cherish you. All the time. As often as possible. And not just with sex, which is alway mind-blowing and soul-fulfilling, by the way, but also in the moments we share outside of the bedroom. There is nothing I need more than knowing you are my husband. So, if you feel the same way, which I think you do, then we can be very secure in the knowledge that this will pass.”

“Aww. I’m so lucky to have you. It started out gross, took a weird turn, got gross again and then turned weirdly wonderful.”

“You married a romantic.” Victor put another kiss on his husband’s head, then tipped his chin up to put one on his mouth. “We’ll be fine, solnyshko. Once the pressure of our first competitions are off and we have a few days rest, we’ll be back at it.”

“Once the pressure is off, huh? Good luck with that in our line of work.”

***

What happened?

As self-aware and secure as Victor and Yuuri were in the thought that a little dry spell was nothing to fret over, it was like it only got worse in the next few weeks. 12-hours days become a near-daily occurrence, and what few rest days were scheduled had to be dedicated to  _ actual _ rest and/or domestic duties. The bedroom became a fortress for sleep and sleep alone, and all thoughts of sex were banished to the darkest depths of Tartarus. The few times the couple did manage to get up the energy to initiate any advances, it fizzled out quickly and didn’t really turn into anything more than a short-lived makeout session. There was a memorable evening where they managed to get all of their clothes off, but Yuuri’s back suddenly seized, he reflexively kneed Victor in the side and the two of them ended up wrapped in a nest of blankets, heatings pads and ice packs. There wasn’t even a mood to ruin after that. 

On top of all of that, qualifiers were in full swing and the Grand Prix series assignments would be out in a matter of days. The Senior Men’s Division’s power couple devoted all the time they could spare to polishing their routines, their battle plans, their weapons of war. 

The books got it wrong, Victor thought one day. The first casualty of war wasn’t the truth, it was physical intimacy.

So the whole situation sucked, and not in the good way, to the couple’s dismay. Frustration and desperation came closer to bubbling to the surface with every passing day. What’s worse, when it all came out, it came out on the ice. In front of people. Like a lot of people.

“Uh-oh, trouble in paradise.” Yurio scoffed at Mila’s song-singing from where he sat retying his skates on the bleachers.

“Like I give a crap whether those two are happy or not.”

Georgi chimed in from Mila’s other side. “You do, Yura. Sooner or later, your dads are going to make a scene and embarrass themselves and all of us.”

“They are  _ not  _ my dads. Stop telling them that! Last week, the piggy made me a bento box and Victor wrote a note for inside!”

Mila’s prediction came true not ten seconds later. Yuuri’s voice reverberated across the rink, stopping all conversations and practices.

“You know what, Victor?” Yuuri was yelling as he cut his way over to the boards. “You can kiss my  _ ass  _ if you think I’m going to keep putting up with your surly attitude.”

“I have been dying to kiss your ass, darling, but with every rejection I’ve gotten these past few weeks, I fear any attempts will permanently bruise my libido.” The clinical detachment in Victor’s voice and the nonchalance in his posture cut deeper than Yuuri’s skates.

“Screw you, Nikiforov!”

“I’m trying! What I wouldn’t give to have you scream my name differently!”

“I am as tired of rejection and frustrated as you are, goddammit! Do NOT put this situation on me! _ ” _

“You know, Katsuki, if you could skate with half as much conviction as you have cursing me out right now, you’d have several World Championships already.”

“That’s rich, coming from the guy who  _ always  _ finishes first.”

“I never settle for Silver, Yuuri. You know better than anyone. Or Perhaps you don’t.”

“YOU MOTHERF---”

“IF YOU FINISH THAT WORD, I WILL MAKE THE TWO OF YOU DO SO MANY SUICIDES YOU WON’T FEEL YOUR LEGS FOR A WEEK!”

Yakov Feltsman came barrelling out of his office towards the arguing couple, not quite ignoring the novices and juniors doing drills but focused on saving the professional atmosphere and his sanity. If it were possible, Victor would have paled as he realized his fuck up. Yuuri worried his hands over each other, trying to steady his breathing and not run away to a distant mountain in South America. Neither of them had the fortitude to actually say what was wrong, so silent they remained as they waited for the verbal beatdown of the week.

“What the hell is going on out here?! Using such foul language, in front of minors no less. Are you determined to set a bad example for the future of figure skating!?”

Victor stole a glance at the novices staring at him from the other side of the rink, frozen in awe as the Living Legend of Figure Skating and Russia’s Hero shouted at his husband like a petulant, horny teenager. Yuuri hung his head in shame, angry tears threatening to spill from his eyes and a matching flush coloring his cheeks.

“Now, would you care to explain why you decided to bring your silly marriage squabbles onto my ice?”

“Please, no.” Yuuri’s small voice reached Yakov despite the distance between them. There was nothing worse in his mind than having to air out private problems to people who by all counts were not entitled to or involved in them. It broke Victor’s heart to hear how dejected his husband sounded when just a second ago he had been using his full lung capacity to shout obscenities almost as well as Yura. Yakov waited for Yuuri to elaborate but had no patience for pulling out the truth. He turned to his star student with a scowl and gruff voice.

“Victor Alexandrovitch, you have five seconds to answer before I revoke your single-room privileges and put you in with the Ice Kitten while Katsuki sleeps on a different floor.”

Victor’s whole body reflexively snapped to attention at the use of his patronymic. Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at his devastated husband and panicked, spilling the truth in a rush like when he was in trouble as a teen. “We’re both frustrated as a result of not having the energy after our long practice days to engage in sexual relations as a married couple.”

Oh, that made it worse. Yep. Yuuri couldn’t move. Fight, flight or freeze had kicked in already. There was nothing he could do except scrunch his eyes shut and will the earth to open up and swallow him whole just so he wouldn’t have to deal with the public embarrassment of his lack of sex life. In the distance, Mila’s boisterous laughter drifted over all of them above Yura’s temper tantrum as Georgi struggled not to cry over their misfortune.

“YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME, OLD MAN! I WAS JUST STARTING TO THINK KATSUDON WAS COOL! YOU RUINED HIM!”

Yakov’s face was unreadable. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly done with herding his ill-tempered, shameless, dramatic children for the rest of the decade. With the efficiency of a surrogate parent with many years experience, he cut through the noise to give his orders. “Yura, quit screaming and start warming up like I told you! Lyudmila, if you want to leave early today like you requested, I suggest you get to the weight room for your session with Fedya. Georgi, it is not the end of their marriage, so go get some water and when you’ve calmed down, report to Yelena for physio.” 

The three of them quieted immediately and threw sympathetic looks to their favorite ship as they followed their instructions. That done, Yakov waved Yuuri over and looked between him and Victor. The couple stood waiting for the verbal lashing that, at this point, had to be Yakov’s signature, but it never came. Instead, he picked up Yuuri’s skate guards from the boards and decisively handed them to Victor. “Vitya. Take Yuusha home. I don’t want to see either of you on the ice for the rest of the week.”

“Yakov, it’s still early--”

“I promise, we’ll be totally--”

Yakov held up a hand to silence the familiar protests. “I have seen too many talented skaters put their careers ahead of their relationships and suffer for it. In addition, your frustrations will not help you when you are skating. Rest, eat, talk, do what you need to and when you have reconciled, come back with the focus and determination to win that I know you both have. And don’t ever -  _ ever _ \- bring that shit up on my ice again. Now, get out of my sight.”

Yakov turned and walked away from his shell-shocked students. Victor and Yuuri exchanged a look, nodded, and stepped off the ice. Skates and gear properly stored, the two of them left without saying goodbye to anyone else. The silence between them continued the entire walk home, Victor’s mouth pressed into a line and frustrated tears falling from Yuuri’s downturned eyes. In the ten minutes it took them to get to their door, all anger had vanished, burned away by humiliation and remorse.

Victor dropped their bags by the door with a flump and stripped out of his coat. As Yuuri used his toe to take off his sneakers, he lost his balance and stumbled right into his husband. Back pressed to the door and pinned there by Yuuri’s hands on his chest, Victor let out a huff, his blue eyes widening in surprise. Yuuri’s eyes widened, but he pretended not to notice the reaction and pushed away to busy himself with hanging his own jacket.

“We...need to talk about this situation, but we’re not doing anything until we both shower. You smell like a locker room.”

Victor pushed his hair back and got a whiff of his own stink from under his arm. “ _ You  _ smell like...why don’t you smell like the locker room? Wait a second, get back here and let me smell you!”

Yuuri dodged his grasp and backed towards the kitchen, amusement showing in the way he almost danced across the floor. “We need to clean and eat and take an actual nap. Go wash. I’ll order some food and finish folding that pile of laundry. I think it’s been sitting there since Monday, and it keeps staring at me. I want to talk about everything, but not until we’re in a better mindset and environment.”

“Can I at least kiss you before I go?”

Yuuri looked down at the floor, contemplating the request. Suddenly afraid of being seen, he shrugged and nodded. “I suppose a small one wouldn’t hurt.”

Silver bangs falling forward, Victor wrapped his arms around his husband and tipped his head down to put a soft kiss on his cheek. Then his nose. Then his hairline and his forehead. Victor put quick feather-light kisses all over Yuuri’s face, until the latter was giggling and squirming to get away.

“Okay, okay! Please go shower before our stink decides to stick to everything we own!”

An hour later, clean and dressed in comfy clothes, Victor and Yuuri snuggled together on the couch, feeding each other small bites from their plates. The warmth of pasta and crunch of fresh greens combined with their familiar position on the sofa dissipated whatever tension there was in the air. They hadn’t said more than a few passing words since coming home, but between the full bellies, newly empty schedule and undemanding closeness, the couple was well on their way to reconciling. 

For a while, that was all they did. They ate slowly. Victor cuddled his husband as close as possible, struggling to stay awake despite the aches in his limbs and the warmth of the apartment. Yuuri just waited him out, emerging from the embrace when he heard the soft tell-tale snores. He left his Russian dozing under a blanket with a kiss on his forehead, and used the time alone and energy buzzing under his skin to finish the chores that had been piling up. With earbuds in and familiar music floating around in his head, the work went by like a montage in a Disney film. Clean dishes made it into the cupboards, laundry found itself in drawers or hung in the closet, the entire bathroom smelled of bleach after a thorough scrub, and clean sheets graced their bed, eliminating the last of the stale smells in the apartment.

By the time Yuuri was done, he felt better than he had in weeks. He smiled at the way the countertops shone and the lemon-and-lavender scented candles threw shadows on the walls. Exhaustion pulled at his mind, but it was the good kind of exhaustion, the kind that usually signaled the end of a productive day. Wandering over to the sofa, Yuuri slipped underneath his husband’s arm, relaxing into him completely. He couldn’t restrain himself from putting a few soft kisses to Victor’s chest, right over his heart. It wasn’t too long before he, too, was falling asleep, his mind clear of anything except feelings of safety and love.

When Yuuri awoke, he was still on the sofa, but he had a pillow under his head instead of a snoring Russian, and someone had draped a thick fleece blanket over his body. Said someone was standing in the kitchen, drinking from a steaming mug of something and looking over a takeout menu from one of their favorite restaurants.

“I thought I’d let you sleep a while longer, since you did the same for me.”

“What time is it?”

“A little after four. What do you think about taking it easy tonight? Maybe watching a movie or doing some of our language exercises together?”

“That...sounds great, actually. But…”

“But?”

“Can you bring me some tea? I think it’s time we talked about it.”

“Ah, the ‘it.’”

Victor quickly poured another mug of tea for Yuuri and handed it over from the other side of the sofa. He came around and put a soft kiss on Yuuri’s forehead, settling in across from him in posture both open and attentive. Yuuri took a sip of his tea - perfect, as usual - and held it in his lap so he could focus on the ice-blue eyes before him.

“Vitya, I owe you an apology for what I said at the rink. It was uncalled for, and I certainly don’t blame you for anything we’ve been dealing with. I’m very sorry.”

“And I owe you one as well. You are a very talented and hardworking skater, and I shouldn’t have said something so hurtful.”

“Forgiven?”

“Forgiven.” With a bright smile, Victor clinked their mugs together and gestured to the room around them. “You cleaned while I was asleep.”

“I wanted to. I haven’t been able to relax in the grossness, not since the Great Apartment War and Cleansing of 2014. Before you ask, yes, Phichit named it, and yes, the entire event was his idea, and yes, he has pictures of the both of us in rubber gloves and gas masks. God, that apartment was toxic when we moved in. Anyway, we have a blank slate now, and we can move forward without worrying about whether we have clean underwear or if the bathroom is molding.”

Victor froze in horror. “We had mold?”

“I say this with all the love I have to offer. Yes, we had mold. It was disgusting, so I went to war armed with bleach and a scrub brush for us. You can eat off the floor in there now.”

“That’s what you want to say with all the love you have to offer? Yuuri, I might swoon.”

The Japanese skater laughed at his husband, who was still so shocked that he didn’t bother to move his silver bangs from where they fell over his eyes. Gently so as not to startle him, a warm hand pushed them back and attempted to tuck them behind his ear. It didn’t work, but it did bring Victor out of his stupor. He leaned into Yuuri’s hand reflexively and let out a deep sigh.

“Do we wanna talk about the elephant in the room?” Yuuri asked.

“I think we must.”

Yuuri nodded firmly. “We have  _ got  _ to get a better handle on this. It was embarrassing that we couldn’t go a few weeks without sex. I don’t care what anthropological evolutionary bullshit makes it so great between us.”

“Agreed. We didn’t exactly handle it with much tact, did we, my Yuuri? And that’s coming from me.” 

Yuuri blushed slightly at the endearment, still so in love that those two words turned him into a puddle of mush. He blinked a few times in an effort to refocus on the conversation.

“Um, well, I hear marriage takes work. Can’t be sunshine and rainbows all the time, right? Where’s the fun in that? Besides, part of marriage is reading the mood.”

“Are you telling me to read the mood right now? You’re in the mood to have sex,  _ right now _ ? Because I don’t think I’m up for anything after hearing that we had  _ mold. _ ”

“No! Tonight, we finish cleaning up this apartment, we have a real dinner, and we snuggle on the couch while we watch one of those musicals you like. When we go to bed later, we turn off our alarms and sleep until the sun is actually in the sky. Sex is off the table until we are no longer hungry, angry, lonely, or tired.”

Victor made heart eyes at his husband’s demands, happy to comply. “I guess I had better get started then.”

It was wonderful to just be with each other. Yuuri picked dinner, Victor picked a movie, and the two of them tried making commentary about both in each other’s native tongues. About halfway through, their words got softer, more slurred, and Victor ended up carrying Yuuri koala-style to the bedroom, passed out on his shoulder and breathing deeply. He left him there for a few moments to straighten the apartment one last time, proud of his husband’s hard work and determined to show how he appreciated it. That done, he crawled into bed facing a head of tousled dark hair and drifted off in a matter of minutes.

***

Two days later, and the sexual tension had become too much.

Victor had Yuuri up against the wall - wrists pinned next to his head, breathing heavily and gasping for more. Yuuri whined when he broke away, only to keen softly as his husband kissed his way across his cheek and down to the sensitive skin under his ear. Victor used his teeth to nip there gently, then soothed it with the flat of his tongue, hot and desperate. 

“You taste. So. Good.”

Yuuri smiled and forced his hands out of Victor’s grasp to thread through his soft silver hair. He pulled gently, earning a pleased moan, and took the opportunity to turn his husband’s head and claim his mouth again, this time feeling hands pinning him to the wall by the hips. It wasn’t enough contact. One hand tugged at silver hair again as the other slid down Victor’s neck and back all the way down the edge of his t-shirt. Yuuri flipped up the hem and slipped a hand to the hot skin underneath.

Victor moaned into Yuuri’s mouth, suddenly even more desperate and very not happy with their position. He dropped his hands from Yuuri’s hips to his thighs and lifted, encouraging his husband to wrap his legs around his waist. Yuuri laughed at the practiced motion and eagerly complied, his arms coming to lock around the Russian’s neck as he whispered breathy endearments.

“If I had known a little teasing would get you going, love, I’d have done it that night we fell asleep.”

“Shut up and take me to bed!”

Oh, Victor was all too eager to do just that. Still carrying Yuuri, he made it to the bedroom in record time. 

Yuuri laughed as he landed on the cool sheets and Victor quickly crawled on top of him, settling quickly between Yuuri’s all-to-welcoming thick and powerful thighs. For a while they stayed like that, hands roaming bodies, just teasing at hems of shirts and under waistbands of pants. It may have only been a few weeks, but the desire to touch and taste and feel each other burned through both their hands like a hot coal.

Yuuri squeezed Victor’s hips with his thighs - arching slightly off the bed to both create friction and stall the building arousal in his gut - and tugged at the hem of his husband’s shirt, his mouth just millimeters away from soft pink lips. “Off. Take this off. I need it off so I can look at you.”

Victor responded, just as needy and breathlessly, “Only if yours comes off, too, darling.”

And oh, did that sound good coming from his accented and turned-on voice. Yuuri yanked at Victor’s shirt, pulling it off in one quick motion, and tossed it away. He didn’t wait a minute longer to slide out of his own and discard it as well. Finally, they pressed together, pale skin on paler skin and still not close enough. Yuuri arched off the bed again, just so he could chase the friction that Victor’s own hips and groin provided. 

Victor took the hint immediately - despite being currently occupied with reacquainting his mouth with every inch of his husband’s chest and stomach - and hooked one of Yuuri’s legs around his hip for better access. He let his instincts guide him and ground down hard just so he could relish in the resulting soft gasps from above him.

“Oh my god!” Yuuri breathed harshly. Just feeling the hard line of Victor’s erection grinding against him through his sweats was enough to make him freeze in surprise. Victor stopped his mouthing at Yuuri’s chest where he had left an impressive trail of pink marks and smiled, looking for signs of discomfort or approval. He found the latter. Dark locks of hair stuck up around his lover’s face, and glistening pink lips fell open in a smile underneath a spectacular red flush. He had to commit to memory. It was too beautiful to leave alone. Victor kissed his way back up to Yuuri’s neck and murmured into his ear.

“You’re beautiful like this. Just beautiful. I could look at you for hours, but I’d have to stop this.” He sucked a mark onto the pale skin of Yuuri’s neck, earning another moan for his efforts.

“If you stop now, I’ll never forgive you. And if you tease, I’ll make you pay.”

“Oh? How would you do that?” Victor’s hands slid down from Yuuri’s hips into his sweats, gently squeezing the plush muscle within. The younger rman gasped and he tightened his legs’ on the slim hips between them.

“I might just do this.” In fluid motion, he flipped them so he still had Victor between his legs but on his back. Yuuri didn’t give him a chance to be surprised before he ground down again, both of them moaning at the sensation. It was a wonderful sound, full of expectations and lust. Yuuri kissed Victor again, hard, and grabbed his hands, lacing their fingers together on either side of his head.

“Victor,” Yuuri breathed, “I need you.”

“Love...Mmm...my love, you have me.”

Yuuri quickly shimmied out of his own pants and watched Victor take off his own with a heated gaze.

“ _ Mine _ .”

For a while, that’s all it was: whispered words punctuated by breathy moans; the smells of soap and sweat and sex all mixing together; warm skin on warm skin, sliding together and creating delicious friction; the salty taste on each other’s tongues, evidence of doing unspeakable things to each other in the dark of their bedroom. 

The pressure of pleasure and release from the last few weeks of tension and misery built slowly, and when it finally hit them, they came together, breathing hard and whispering praise in each other’s ears. Coming down from the high orgasm, Victor put slow soft kisses on Yuuri’s hairline, and Yuuri’s finger’s danced figures over Victor’s arms and back. When they finally separated, Yuuri cuddled Victor close, so silver hair rested just under his own chin.

“Wow,” Victor said, breaking the silence.

Yuuri was still too dazed to move. “Uh-huh.”

“What language am I speaking?”

“Russian.”

“Oh, good,” Victor smiled and made the conscious decision to switch to English. “I thought for a moment you screwed my brains out,” he said, kissing the spot where his head once lay.

Yuuri laughed, feeling lighter than he had in weeks. “No way we could fall asleep doing that.”

***


End file.
